I had a beautiful fall walk with my baby today.
I reminded myself of how lucky we are. How lucky I am, to have found a loving partner, and to have made this beautiful child. These have always felt like monumental aspirations to me, and I remember the relief of that positive pregnancy test, after a long year and a half of COVID and two years of trying.
I learned today that Earth is the only planet with a continually active mantle in our solar system, circulating liquid rock and thus creating a protective electromagnetic field. How lucky is that? I wonder if any other planets were more hospitable than Earth at different times in the past.
I sang row, row, row your boat tonight. Gently down the stream. Life is but a dream. I’m grateful for the constants in my life. The laundry. The dishes. The meals. The transitions from night to day. The little landmarks that allow this strange dream of a life to seem more real, more ordinary. I wonder if other people ponder the mystery and wonder of existence as much as I do. I don’t think people do, and I don’t think it’s very healthy either. The scale of our small existence relative to the known and unknown universe boggles the mind, and threatens the ordinary.
I attended some college courses with a genius 8 year old. She was dissuaded from studying astrophysics and was literally told (quite sexist-ly) by a department head, that it was bad for women’s health. Suicide rates do tend to be high in such fields, gender aside.
But rowing my boat gently and merrily tomorrow feels like a beautiful intention for a day. And when days feel intentional, the mystery is easier to live with.